


The Flatlined Forger

by Twiranux



Series: R.I.P. Crew [2]
Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Conflict of Interests, FakeHaus, Gen, Hacking, Identity Issues, Internal Conflict, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twiranux/pseuds/Twiranux
Summary: He couldn't imagine the consequences of defying the higher-ups, as he saw himself as a lower class member within the Fakehaus hierarchy. After all, he only did computer work that Lawrence found too easy to do, or the occasional computer hardware fix that needed to get done in a timely manner. He didn't want to bring up any sort of complaints to the Big B, since he was hired haphazardly, and was blessed enough to be taken into the crew after a small job.





	

The small fan on the desk whirls on the fastest setting, making the semi-dusty surface shake a little bit. The blinds are closed, blocking the sun out from creating any more heat. Summer had been slowly creeping up onto Los Santos, not only with the annoying temperature and atmospheric change, but also of the beginning of a seemingly endless list of missions of violence.

Sean had been working on files given by Bruce the night before, and had been working non-stop since. There are a few empty cans of Red Bull, scattered on both the desk as well as the floor. Due to all of the Funhaus members living in one apartment space, Sean unfortunately acquired the smallest room out of them all, which manage to fit the length of his bed from wall to wall.

There is a knock on his door before it opens in a reckless manner.

“G’morning Spoole, there's a file--” Adam’s eyes move off of what he is holding and changes his focus to the almost unmoving crewmember. “...you don’t look so good, what's up with you?”

“Huh? Oh….this is Bruce's file from yesterday,” Sean mumbles, not bothering to turn around. His head feels as if he is already spinning, and his body could give in any second.

“What? It looks like you haven't slept at all.”

“That's because I didn't.”

Adam walks into the room and closes the door, then pushes way some of the clutter to make space for the manila folder on the desk. He observes the monitor that Sean is obligated to keep his eyes on, and takes note of the mass of jumbled letters and numbers. He tugs on his collar in an attempt to relieve the uncomfortable humid feeling.

“Isn't it Lawrence's job to do that?” Adam then crosses his arms, a little peeved now towards the notion of unbalanced workloads.

Compared to Sean, all Adam was assigned to do for the week was to clean some of the guns in the arsenal; he split the work with Bruce and Elyse. In comparison to the amount of work Sean is getting, Adam is living a life of leisure when, really, it was at the hands of people like Sean that made it such. He sits down on Sean's bed, scratching his head, thinking about how to feel about the situation.

“He did his part already. I've been making a forged copy of the file, using the encryption algorithm to obviously get it to look genuine. After this, it's going back onto Lawrence's hands,” Sean explains, his fatigued hands not a moment off the keyboard. “And then who knows what next.”

“So he only gave you all night to complete?”

“I guessed it was really important, so I worked on it the minute after he gave it to me. It's one of the more tedious files I've worked on.”

Adam shuffles his feet, with his palms resting on the newly washed and soft sheets. His fingers curl, digging a bit into the bed. He then sighs, and gets up.

“I'll see about talking to Bruce about this. This is just...bullshit.” Before Sean could reply, Adam already is out of the area. He could hear Adam's feet stomping against the carpet in the living room.

Sean begins to tremble, with his forearms shaking uncontrollably, and forehead beginning to create sweat.

He couldn't imagine the consequences of defying the higher-ups, as he saw himself as a lower class member within the Fakehaus hierarchy. After all, he only did computer work that Lawrence found too easy to do, or the occasional computer hardware fix that needed to get done in a timely manner. He didn't want to bring up any sort of complaints to the Big B, since he was hired haphazardly, and was blessed enough to be taken into the crew after a small job.

Asking Bruce for some increased leisure time as well as a concise work schedule would only make things more stressful than they already should be. Creating such a chart including everyone within an already limited timeframe would leave Bruce literally restless. He didn't become the boss overnight, and took many responsibilities on his shoulders to assure the safety of his friends and coworkers. They were adults after all, who knew what was expected of them from the moment they stepped into the crew.

There are a few moments of audible exchanges between Adam and Bruce, whereas the rest of the apartment sits quietly still. The voices soon fade away as they migrate into a different interior to continue the conversation. Sean, being too exhausted, did not peak his head out of his place, but he could hear the door to James’ and Elyse’s room slightly creak open.

After ten more minutes of suspended tension, the far door opens, and footsteps exit the room. There is an audible exchange, but it is unclear if it is a hard slap or the collision before a firm handshake. Only one set of footsteps come closer, as the other stays in the living room.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Adam apologizes with a slight snicker at the end of his sentence. He rubs the left side of his face, and then places his hands on his pants pockets.

“Ah…did it go well?” Sean finishes up the last few lines of the encrypted message, saving it on an external hard drive. He struggles with the process due to the snarkiness of his hands, nearly ejecting the connected device rather than dragging and dropping the files.

“I mean, sure. I'll be taking responsibility of your new file now, so don't sweat over this. You can have a long sleep once you're done,” Adam reassures, taking the manila folder back. He waves the flimsy stationery and scoffs as if proud to have been given work.

“Well...thank you for doing that, but now Bruce is--”

“Bruce is going to be fine. He understands completely, you're not a slave to your work. Have something to eat, and get some rest or something,” Adam interrupts, and then leaves the room one last time.

Gulping loudly, Sean’s fingers finally give in, and complete the last bit of the file. A few extra saves are thrown in before taking out the three connected USBs on his computer; one contained the encryption algorithm for future reference, while the other two holds the actual file, with one serving as a backup just in case.

Sean extends his legs out, and groans. He puts away the backup USB on a small shelf within his desk, and rises from his office chair. He turns off the monitor by routine, and walks out and into the hallway, before turning and entering Lawrence's room. He takes off his hat to fan himself with.

“Who stepped in?” Lawrence interrogates without looking away from his computer screen.

“Me,” Sean replies hastily. “I-I was just bringing over the file.”

Lawrence turns toward Sean, and takes the USB. He then nods, and returns to working. Sean forces a small smile before leaving, and going back to his own room.

He trips up on the carpet flooring, causing him to stumble but not fall. With relief, he wipes his forehead, and regains balance. He looks into the living room, and pauses right in front of his door.

Sean meets eyes with Bruce, who is standing idly next to the couch, with a bottle of water in hand. Sean flinches the moment their eyes make contact. Bruce's eyes squint a bit, and forms an unfriendly look, while Sean’s eyes are wide open, and a little twitchy.

With a quick glance to the left, Sean breaks eye contact, but then return to their original target of interest, fixated on Bruce. Meanwhile, Bruce twists the cap on his bottle, giving a menacing scowl as he purposefully exaggerates on the power needed to open it.

Sean then sidesteps into his room and slams the door shut in panic. He places his back against the door, closes his eyes, and covers his face with his hands.


End file.
